4. Daemon

I fucking hate parties. They are always full of the same bullshit and well, people, and I fucking hate people too. I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for Josh. He says I need to come to these things so I can socialize more, and honestly, that’s bullshit too. Yet after the three missed calls from my brother, and the voicemail that is now sitting on my phone, I definitely needed a drink.

Want to know what I didn’t need?

Archer fucking Gray’s presence.

From the locker room, to the game, to this damn party, he’s fucking everywhere, and I just needed a minute to fucking breathe without him. It’s why I came out here, to find some quiet. I couldn’t leave, not when Josh was talking to some of our teammates by the door, he would have seen me and forced me into the conversation just to try and make me stay, and well I couldn’t have that. So instead, I swiped a bottle of whiskey and came out back where I know nobody usually goes.

All the houses on Hockey Row pretty much have the exact same layout, since they are supplied for the team by the university, but this one is a little different. From what I’ve heard, Alexander Reign’s parents are rich, successful, and they love their only son, which means this house benefits from the Reign checkbook effect. It has all modern appliances and technology, top of the range furniture, art I could only dream of owning, and though my own house benefits from the Mayor trying to prove to everyone that he loves his son, this house is next level.

The back porch has a ridiculously over the top hot tub, and the remainder of the garden is half-decked with beautiful wood, surrounded by flowers and trees. Then there is a long path that leads down towards a sunken fire pit, right before the forest starts. Which is where I’m headed to find some peace. I’ve spent many nights sitting here in the quiet, contemplating life while the party rages inside of the house, and I thought tonight would be no different.

I’m watching the dance and swirl of the flames, as the fire crackles before me, and I take a sip of my whiskey, savoring both burns against my skin and throat. I can still hear the soft drum of music floating down from the house behind me, but my focus remains on the darkness of the trees only being enlightened by the fire. I pull out my phone, feeling the weight of that damn red voicemail notification, but just as I am about to listen to it, I hear the slam of the back door opening and shutting again and again. One, two, at least three people pile out onto the deck, and I sink lower into my chair to remain hidden, while internally groaning into the bottle in my hand. This is why I fucking hate people, they are everywhere all the time.

The telltale rumbling of a machine and the splashing of water signals to me that, whoever it is, is climbing into the hot tub. I also hear the hushed exchange of voices, but I block them out and focus on my drink, not caring for the no doubt mindless activities they are about to partake in. Not tonight anyway. More giggles and splashes have me rolling my eyes, as I count at least two girls, and when their giggles turn to moans I almost scoff. For fuck sake, there goes my peace and quiet.

More moans sound out from the girls, both fake and over exaggerated, as I then hear a semi-familiar male laugh, and can only presume one of my teammates has been entrapped by some of the girls inside. It’s always the fucking same, and I roll my eyes again, before I focus back on my phone when a new text message pops ups from my brother.

Jasper - Will you please answer the phone when I call, we need to talk

Jasper - Please, D, it’s about dad

As I read the words I almost laugh. Not because they are funny, but because of the fucking irony. Where was he when my jaw was shattered and they had to fit it with a metal plate? Where was he when four of my ribs were broken and I could barely move? Where was he when my skin was sliced and stitched until I passed out again and again? He didn’t want to talk about our dad then, did he? No, then I was lucky if he even fucking remembered he had a brother, let alone get him on the phone.

The phone lights up with another call and I let it ring, hoping he understands what it was like when he would do the same. When I was scared and I needed him, and all I wanted was to hear his voice, for him to tell me it would all be okay, for him to tell me that I would make it out one day like him, but he never picked up. So now I take a leaf out of his book, and watch the screen until it turns dark again.

When his next message comes through, I know I don’t have to read it to know what it’s going to say.

Jasper - I love you brother

It’s the same words he always sends when I don’t pick up, and I don’t know why I torture myself by always reading them. Maybe it’s because I miss the feeling of being a brother, of having someone in my corner, of having someone love me, but it’s too late for that now, it’s gone, and I can never get it back.

I take another sip of the whiskey, my hands itching for something more that I won’t allow, not when Josh still has faith in me. So as usual I settle for the burn of liquor, hoping it will help, just as I hear a deep guttural moan. The sound has me freezing with the bottle mid-air, almost at my lips again, not because of the no doubt reason for the moan, but because I know exactly who that moan belongs too.

That sound has haunted my nightmares for over three fucking years, ever since the night I met him, and although I might act like I don’t recall what happened, I remember every fucking second. I was high as fuck and all I wanted to do was lock myself away in my room and ignore the world. So imagine my surprise when I get there, only to find it occupied by a blond, cocky prick with his hand fisted in some random girl's hair. He didn’t look at me, not at first, which meant I saw the way he was silently begging for more from her, like her eager and sloppy mouth wasn’t enough, and I understood him more then, than I would ever care to admit.

Aren’t we always craving more?

I know I am, and I can’t remember a time I wasn’t.

The second I spoke his stare snapped to mine, and I felt the pull of something deep in my gut, and instead of being outraged, the prick just smirked and invited me to join them. I mean, who fucking does that? The girl didn’t mind of course, and I’m sure I’ve seen her face around a few times, but I don’t fully remember her. No, my focus was only on him, on his confidence, on his arrogance, on his fucking flexed arm muscles, as he stood his ground in my fucking room, on my fucking bed.

In my drunken and drug-fueled haze I didn’t even hesitate to join them, so ready to sink into the first hole I could find in the hopes of chasing away some of my demons. Yet it isn’t the girl I remember, or sharing her, it was the look in Archer Gray’s eyes as I fucked her, and the sound of his pleasure-filled groans. Groans that now once again fill the air all around me, and suddenly I feel like I can’t fucking breathe.

Why can’t I escape him? Why is it every fucking time I need peace, quiet, or some fucking solace from the dark stains that stalk my soul, that he appears to make things worse. I hate him, I fucking despise him, and the sound of his moans, yet still, they have every hair on my body standing on fucking edge. Fuck I need to get out of here, I’m in no mood for this fucking bullshit, and I shoot to my feet while using the shade of the trees to look for my escape, but of course my eyes float up to that damn hot tub.

Archer is there, like I knew he was, and he’s joined by Reign, the familiar laugh I recognized, along with Brianna and Georgia who we were talking to inside. Alexander is spread out along the back of the hot tub, his torso leaning on a post for support, with Brianna riding him reverse cowgirl style. He has her legs spread over his thighs, allowing Georgia to fit her head between them, where she is licking them both. Yet my eyes are fixated on the fourth member of their party, who has his hand fisted in Georgia’s hair, as he fucks her from behind.

Once again I find that silent and detached look in his eye, like the fucking and sharing isn’t enough, he needs more, and I can’t help but scoff. It’s quiet, almost silent, yet still he hears me. Archer's head snaps around in search of the culprit until his stare lands on me, his eyes changing from detached to delighted. I expect some bullshit taunt or joke, alerting the others to my presence, but instead he just watches me, watches me watching him, until I am completely frozen in place, unable to move.

What the fuck is happening? Why can’t I move? And why do I think that even if I could, I wouldn’t? I mean, I know I should, I even know I should want to, but it’s like that first night all over again. His stare is inviting, intoxicating even, and I don’t think he even knows he’s doing it. He’s looking at me like he wants something from me, and the idea of what it could be seems utterly ridiculous, especially considering the position he is currently in.

When I cock a brow at him in silent question, that insufferable smirk of his spreads across his jaw, as his hand leaves Georgia’s hair and joins his other on her hip. Then with his eyes locked on mine he begins fucking her, and I mean really fucking her, thrusting into her like he is on a mission to rip her apart, and most people would find the display hot, erotic even. I mean, what’s not to enjoy about two beautiful women being shared by two beautiful men, but when one of those men is Archer fucking Gray, it’s easy to forget about the rest.

The arrogant asshole groans deeply, his fingers digging into the skin at Georgia’s hip bone making her moan, as I remain frozen in place, unable to look away. “You like that, don’t you?” he asks, his stare fixated on mine, and though I’m sure he must be talking to her, his words somehow feel like they are meant for me. Georgia nods between Brianna’s thighs, moaning in delight, but Archer doesn’t seem to notice or care, not when his stare is swallowing me whole. “I know, I can feel it,” he purrs in pleasure, snapping his hips harder and harder. “I like it too,” he adds, still focused on me, and again it’s like that night all over again.

I remember the way he looked at me, the way he watched me . I remember his moans, as I fucked that girl to suck him even deeper, and I remember the look in his eyes as I did it. It’s the same look he has now, and all I feel is confused. What the fuck is wrong with him? Why the fuck is he doing this again? I can’t stand the arrogant asshole, but why can’t I fucking look away?

His body moves the way it does on the ice, quick, lethal, fucking magical if I have to be honest and admit it, and for some reason, despite the other three people with him, my focus is only on him. Now this isn’t unusual, it’s not really a secret I try to hide, that I enjoy watching other people’s pleasure, but not fucking his. Anyone but fucking him, yet still I remain frozen.

I lap up every moan, as he ruts into her without pause, the water lapping around his ass and thigh muscles with every snap of his hips, and I know when he’s close. I can see it, feel it, and just for a second I imagine something else, someone else, and I almost stumble from the force of the image, making both Brianna and Reign aware of my presence.

Archer looks disappointed, as Reign breaks the spell between us and calls out, “Fancy joining us, Forbes?” His words are half-moaned in that accent of his, that have most people obeying his every word, but my gaze remains on his roommate.

I don’t respond, because I can’t, not when Archer is still fucking that girl like a man gone mad. No, I have to get out of here. I storm towards them and Archer’s eyes brighten a little, until he realizes I am exiting towards the left of the house, and leaving them behind. And when I finally break our stare, he does the worst thing in the fucking world and utters one fucking word.

“Forbes.” The word is shouted but then ends on a deep moan, as he comes long and loud, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t fucking block it out.

Yet still I don’t stop, I push through the gate, storm across their front yard, and run across the street, bursting through my own front door, and not slowing down until I reach my room. Slamming the door behind me, I take my first real breath, shaking my head of the fresh sounds and images now haunting me there, and curse my fucking teammate silently.

God I fucking hate him, but want to know what I hate even more?

That my cock is rock fucking hard.

Fuck.